


In The Kitchen

by S_Faith



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-25
Updated: 2007-11-25
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13590729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: It's all about confidence and trust. Mark would never betray me. Everything will be lovely and we'll have sex in the kitchen.(Come on. Seriously. You want a summary? That would suggest there's a plot, and, well, there isn't much of one of those.)





	In The Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> I started this last night, finished it today. I've been mulling over this quote for some time, that and the cold stone floor from the _EOR_ book, and finally decided it was time to do something about it. It's a Bridget voice-over from _EOR_ (the movie): she's going to Mark's after hearing that Mark's just been seen bringing Rebecca home:
> 
> _It's all about confidence and trust. Mark would never betray me. Everything will be lovely and we'll have sex in the kitchen._

"Everyone's gone. Shall I take you home?"

From her seat on the stool there in the kitchen, she looks up to where he's reappeared in the doorway. Obviously he's gotten rid of his co-workers in record time. She grins, bringing to mind her thoughts upon approaching the house, specifically thoughts pertaining to the kitchen.

"What's the hurry?" she asks, slipping out of her jacket.

"What do you mean?" he asks carefully, as if she's poised to drown a kitten.

She swings her feet back and forth, still atop the stool, unbuttoning her cardigan. "Come here."

"What?"

"Just come here."

He strides over to where she is, and she leans forward and grabs the belt loops on his trousers, pulling him closer. "What if I don't want to wait until you get me home?"

"Well, I suppose we could head upstairs…" he says thoughtfully, turning his head to look towards the doorway.

"No. You see, Jude says that you have to counteract bad energy with good energy. We had a fight here in the kitchen. Therefore…"

"Oh, you can't be serious." He tries to step back but stops. He doesn't want to pull the stool forward and topple it over.

"I'm deadly serious," she says, keeping her eyes innocently wide, then smiling, releasing the belt loops to draw her fingers around to the front of his trousers.

"Bridget! Honestly." This time he does step back.

She stands, reaching for him again, putting her arms around his neck. "What have you got against the kitchen?" she asks, planting little kisses on his chin.

"For one, it's where I prepare my food. Raw chicken, vegetables, et cetera."

"What, you don't wipe down your countertops afterwards?"

"Of course I do!" he says indignantly. "Before as well."

"Of course you do," she says, mimicking his tone, her hands drifting to his shoulders. "Why do you still have your jacket on?"

Ignoring her, he continues, "Secondly, I don't find steel countertops nor cold stone floors terribly appealing, nor do I imagine they're comfortable."

She's up on her toes now and is teasing him by not quite kissing his mouth. She can tell he's trying to resist by the way he's keeping his composure but blinking erratically. "You should let me be the judge, since I'm likely to be the one pressed up against either one," she says, encircling her arms around his neck, continuing her taunting not-kisses.

"Plus protection. What about protection?" he says abruptly.

She threads her fingers into his hair, hovering her mouth just over his. "I am a modern woman with a handbag. What do you think?"

She reaches forward to meet his mouth but he evades her. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?" he asks.

"Nope."

He then lets her catch him, and as she kisses him she presses her whole body up into his. He kisses her in return and then some. She can feel he's not quite there yet but he soon will be, she knows.

As he continues his delightful assault on her mouth, he wastes no time pulling the bottom edge of her blouse up out of her skirt, running his fingers over the warm skin of her back. He's walking her into the stool and she breaks away and giggles. "Not the stool, Mark."

"I'm too old for the floor to really be a viable option," he says quietly.

"Countertop it is, then?"

He makes a guttural sound deep in his throat that vaguely resembles an affirmative. He walks her to the counter, leans her against it, leans against her. He's definitely there now. "Where is your handbag?"

"Um…" She doesn't really have a conscious memory of where she put the thing down, even less so since he began unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom up. "I think it's—" She stops short as she remembers that she set it down some time before climbing atop the skylight. Outside. "You're going to kill me."

"Why should I want to do that?" he says, nuzzling into her neck. He's made it as far as her breasts now, and he takes them in his hands.

"I left my bag outside."

He ceases all activity. "Outside," he repeats. He rears his head back to look at her.

She nods, looking down to her current state of undress. "Can you go and get it for me?"

"You, I'm afraid, are in a far more recoverable state than I," he says lamentably.

She looks up at him through her lashes, blinks coquettishly. "Please? I'll make it worth your while."

"Of that I have no doubt."

She grins. "Besides, no one's here but us, and it's dark outside."

He sighs, looking down to the exposed skin of her stomach. Tracing a finger over her navel, he asks, "Where outside?"

"Somewhere between the front door and the, um, skylight."

He lunges forward and kisses her once more, then just as abruptly pulls away. "I'll be right back."

_He moves quickly when he's motivated_ , she thinks as he retreats up the stairs. The least she can do is be ready for his return. She walks forward, hiking her skirt up, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her tights to pull them down and over her feet. She then tosses them onto the stool.

She is doing the same to her pants when motion out of the corner of her eye catches her attention. She looks up and standing up there is Mark, peering down at her through the skylight, his eyes round as saucers, his face pale and uplit. She pulls them off, holds them up for him to see, spinning them around in circles, then grins broadly. He moves away from the skylight very quickly and she laughs.

It takes longer than she would expect for him to get back downstairs and when he does, he looks quite disturbed, and not just because he's holding her handbag under his arm.

"That would be my fourth objection," he says cryptically.

"What?"

"It would seem we were not, in fact, alone. I ran into…" He clears his throat. "… _Rebecca_ on my way back in. Thankfully your handbag provided sufficient, er, cover."

"Oh Jesus." Even as she thinks of Mark's mortification, she's thinking more of how she compares to the lithe, willowy Rebecca than anything. "She was leaving, I do sincerely hope," she says in a snippy tone.

"Yes. Saw her out myself."

"And we're sure no other lawyers are lurking in cupboards or behind doorways?"

"Positive."

She takes in a deep breath, then smiles, putting the Australian stick insect out of her thoughts. _He's here, and he's chosen me_ , she reminds herself as she undoes the final three buttons of her blouse, leaning back against the counter. "Since we're certifiably alone now…" She pulls aside the halves of the shirt and as expected, his eyes fix upon her chest.

"What about the skylight?" he says.

She chuckles. "Do you have much foot traffic through your backyard at this time of night? Besides, I have my doubts that there's a straight line of sight clear into the kitchen. You only saw me because I walked under it." She brings her fingers up to the front clasp of her bra. "Did you like what you saw?"

He comes closer to her again, sets her handbag down beside her. "I always do," he says, running his hands over her stomach, then overtakes her fingers to undo the clasp. He pushes the lacy cups out of the way, then unexpectedly thrusts his hands under her armpits and lifts her up so that she's sitting on the cool steel, and he steps between her parted knees. The next thing she feels is his hands cupping her breasts, his lips upon the spot just between them, before his fingers flit along her abdomen, over the skirt and under the edge, grazing her thighs with his bluntly-cut fingernails. She moans as he pulls the peak of her nipple through gentle teeth; she arches forward into him as his arms encircle her waist and he reclaims her mouth. 

"Now," he says huskily as he breaks away, "where were we?"

"Right about here." She reaches down, runs her hand over the front of his trousers, can feel that he's lost no ground in that respect, or if he has he's regained it. Nimbly she works open the button with her thumb and forefinger, edges the zip down, slips her fingers into his boxers.

"Right," he says in a whisper, then leans over for the big, black leather handbag. She looks over to the side, sees him rifling through the large center section with the hand that isn't settled protectively on her hip.

"The zipped section," she offers.

"Of course." She reaches out and holds it while he unzips the section containing the condoms, then pulls one out.

"Shall I?" she asks, reaching for it.

He hands it over and backs up from her enough to give her room to move. She carefully tears open the packet. As she rolls it into place she can't help but feel him twitch as he stands patiently there, thinks that her doing it gives both of them far more enjoyment than if he did it himself.

Once it's on she mutters, "There," and he must know what that means sufficiently enough because he grabs her buttocks and pulls them forward so that her bottom is mostly off the countertop, then slides a hand beneath the edge of her skirt, between her legs. She closes her eyes, draws a sharp breath as she feels his fingers on her, in her. He then suddenly drives forward into her with a groan. She wraps her legs around his hips to pull him even closer. He's got his arms around her, grasping her under her arms and up around her shoulders to keep her from whacking her head on the cupboard overhead. The edge of the counter presses into the small of her back every time he thrusts forward but somehow it only seems to heighten the sensation.

Her hands find his waist as he searches for her mouth again. She guesses he can tell she's close to coming by the disjointed utterances she's making; it seems to spur him on to capture those sounds of passion, those quick bursts of exhaled breath, with his own kiss.

She hears her own voice muffled within his mouth as he continues hard and fast, so hard and so fast she's sure she'll have a bruise on her back, but she cares little for that when she can see bursts of colours behind her eyes, feels that tell-tale clenching around him that also triggers his release. She breaks from his kiss and makes a good and proper cry out that, were they not alone, someone up on the top floor might have been able to hear.

His motion slows then stops. He plants tender kisses on her throat as she embraces him around his back, running her fingers along the fine fabric of his suit jacket. She chuckles.

"What's so funny?" he says quietly into her ear.

"The one thing I don't prefer about this is that you're pretty much still dressed."

She can feel him laugh low in his throat, though hears nothing. "There is something to be said for bare skin contact, it's true."

"Mmmm." It's all she can really manage while he's busily nibbling at then running his tongue along her earlobe.

He stops what he's doing to add, "There's time for that later, I suppose, now that we've cleared the so-called 'bad energy'."

She laughs, brushes her fingers over his hair. "Oh, that's rubbish."

He stops. "Rubbish?"

"What I said before about the energy. It's rubbish. I just wanted to get you to shag me in the kitchen."

She half-expects him to start lecturing her even before he'd withdrawn from her, but surprisingly, he smiles, then begins to laugh.

"Everything with you turns into an adventure," he says, kissing her full on the mouth once more.

_The End._


End file.
